


Feminine Wiles

by Skylark42



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Vaginal Fingering, is it still considered genderbending if a witch did it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:00:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25080535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylark42/pseuds/Skylark42
Summary: A witch turns Jaskier into a woman.  The change makes Geralt discover some things.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 26
Kudos: 287





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You ever watch a show and think if one of the two guys in a bromance was a woman, they'd be an actual couple in canon? This is like Geralt realizing that in real life. Obviously, they'll get together in the end, but Geralt is kind of oblivious at first and Jaskier is just suffering from what he thinks is unrequited love.

It's the scream that wakes Geralt. A high pitched shriek, followed by his name, coming from Jaskier's side of the room.

When he looks over, he immediately looks away. Standing beside Jaskier's bed is a nude woman, obviously in distress. She's quite lovely, sharp cheekbones, long, dark hair, eyes a brilliant shade of blue and lips petal pink. Geralt might have even thought her beautiful, if her face was not scrunched in a scowl.

“Geralt, it's me!” the woman says, panicked and exasperated. Geralt can't think of how he knows this woman, though he supposes Jaskier could have told her his name. He did come stumbling in rather late last night, smelling of sex and perfume. But Geralt had been quite sure he was alone—Jaskier wouldn't bring back one of his lovers to their room, he respected them too much to force them to fuck in the same room as someone else. Though the thought does cause him to wonder where is Jaskier? Surely he wouldn't leave his latest lover all alone.

“Geralt, it's Jaskier, I'm a woman!”

Geralt lifts his head again and looks at the woman. Tall, dark hair, familiar blue eyes. She does bear a certain resemblance...

Of course, there's magic that can do such a thing, powerful magic. The question is _why_ would someone use such magic on Jaskier?

Jaskier clutches his (her?) hands to his chest, feeling his breasts, then back up to feel his hair. He rushes to the cracked mirror in the room and looks himself over. “Geralt, fix this!”

The transformation is really something. Jaskier's breasts are high and perky, his skin clear and supple, legs long and lean and hips wider. It causes a certain stir in his groin that Geralt ignores. He has to focus on the problem. “How did this happen?”

Jaskier shoots him a nasty look. “How should I know? I woke up like this.” 

Geralt sighs. Leave it to Jaskier to get himself into this kind of trouble. “Where were you last night?”

“A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell.”

“You aren't a gentleman.” 

Jaskier glances down at his body. “You have me there.” He looks himself over, turning back and forth in front of the mirror. “At least I'm still good looking.”

Geralt feels a headache coming on. “Could you put some clothes on?”

“Oh, am I distracting you?” Jaskier says, reaching for his clothes. They don't fit, trousers too long and shirt too big, but it's all he has. “I was with a woman last night, Tabitha. Beautiful, funny, she had the softest skin-”

“Jaskier,”

“You think she had something to do with it?” Jaskier asks.

“If she was a witch.”

Jaskier frowns. “Now that you mention it, she did have a lot of suspicious bottles. Potions, I think.”

“So you went to bed with her.”

Jaskier sends him a dirty look. “Oh, like I'm the only one around here to bed a witch.”

“Hmm,” Geralt says, thinking. Yennefer could help, if they were on speaking terms. Unfortunately, things aren't good between them at the minute and he doesn't know where she is. “What did you do to piss her off?”

Jaskier sighs again and runs a hand through his hair. “How can women stand this stuff, it's just in the way.”

“Come here,” Geralt orders, gesturing to the bed. Jaskier comes and sits. Geralt takes his hair in hand and begins weaving it in a braid.

Jaskier's breath hitches and he says “You know how to braid hair?”

“I used to do this for my mother when I was a boy.” Geralt tries to ignore that Jaskier is practically purring under his touch. Being a woman is probably just giving him some strange effects.

Jaskier peeked over his shoulder. “You never talk about your childhood.”

“Nothing to talk about,” Geralt says gruffly, securing the end of the braid. He rises. “Let's go find this witch.”

He holds a hand back to Jaskier without thinking much about it. Then drops it when he realizes what he's done. Jaskier can stand on his own, he isn't some delicate noble woman to treat like glass. Jaskier follows him to the door, nearly stumbling in the too big boots.

“Let's go find this witch.”

///

The hotel clerk takes one look at him and swears. “Not another one. That's the fourth one this month.”

She's a jolly looking woman with a round face and plump cheeks. Almost pretty, but not quite. Jaskier thinks her name was Rachel. She sends Jaskier a sympathetic look. “Tabitha's newest trick is turning menfolk into women. Something about teaching 'em a lesson.”

Jaskier gawks. “And you couldn't have warned me of this before I left with her?”

The woman shrugs. “She don't do it to all her lovers.”

She looks Jaskier up and down. “Come on, I think I've got an old dress that'll fit you. Can't have you walking around looking like that.”

“We should find this Tabitha,” Geralt says. That's more important than playing dress up. He'd just have to change again once he got switched back.

The woman waves a hand. “Let's get your friend settled first. I only had sons, this'll be a bit like having a daughter to dress up.”

Jaskier smiles at her, about to say something flirtatious and realizes it'd be quite useless in this body. Of course, he knows there are women who love women and he knows how to pleasure a woman without his cock but...it feels wrong somehow. Like he's operating a body that isn't his. His own body feels foreign and strange and _wrong_. He firmly ignores the feeling, and focuses on the matter at hand..how to dress himself

The dress is a bit old, but Jaskier doesn't mind. It's simple, something long and purple with wide sleeves and a square neckline, with a bodice that laced up the front. Jaskier thought it rather complimented his eyes and complexion.

Geralt was made to wait outside while he changed, given how it 'wouldn't be proper' if he was there.

"You make a rather pretty girl," Rachel says. 

"Yes, if I had to be the fairer sex, at least I'm attractive."

"Your friend thinks so too," Rachel says with a sly smile. Jaskier wonders if he's that obvious to everyone. Even last night Tabitha had mentioned she could tell he loved another. Is that what this is about? Was she perhaps upset that he took her to bed while in love with someone else? 

Geralt is sitting on a bench when he walks out.

“How do I look?” Jaskier asks, doing a bit of a twirl.

“Like a woman,” Geralt says, rising to his feet “Let's go.”

He barely casts a glance at Jaskier, but he can't help but notice the way the dress enhances her cleavage. It's...distracting. He hopes they get this problem resolved quickly. He doesn't think he can handle Jaskier being a woman for long.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Jaskier visit the witch who turned Jaskier into a woman and find out why she did.

“What do you think of this new form of mine? Would you bed me? I'd bed me.”

They are walking towards the witch's cottage, Jaskier chatting away like normal. No one pays them much mind as they walked further out from the village to the edge of the surrounding woods.

“You bed anything that moves,” Geralt says dryly.

“Geralt, you can hardly speak that way about a lady,” Jaskier says, playing shocked.

“You aren't a lady.”

As if to prove the point, Jaskier trips over the edge of his dress and falls to the ground. Geralt hauls him back to his feet. Jaskier brushes the dirt off his dress and cups his breasts. “How do women walk around with these things pushed up all day? It's dreadful.”

“Stop playing with your breasts, people are staring,” Geralt whispers.

Jaskier drops his hands. “Well, they're mine, if I want to touch them I can. You can too if you like, see how they compare to a real woman's.”

“I'm not touching your breasts.”

“You're such a gentleman, Geralt.”

They finally arrive at the cottage at the edge of woods, just outside town. It's a bit rundown, but it has a cozy, homey feel to it, vines crawling along the outside and flowers and small plants blooming around it. It doesn't look like the home of an evil witch.

The witch opens the door before Geralt can knock. She sweeps her eyes over to Jaskier and smiles. “Turned out pretty, didn't you. I thought you would.”

Jaskier gawks at her, while Geralt growls out “Turn him back.”

The witch is lovely, olive skin and dark hair falling down to her waist in wild curls. She looks like something wild and fae from a storybook. Geralt can see why Jaskier went home with her. She grins at them both. “Come inside, come inside, I'll make some tea. How are you liking being a woman?”

Jaskier follows her inside, so Geralt moves with him. “How do I like it? You turned me into a woman!”

Tabitha nods. “Yes, you seemed so sweet and your heart yearned. You said your love would notice you if you were a woman.”

Jaskier blinks. He remembers saying something like that to her, she had been surprisingly easy to talk to. But he can't have this conversation in front of Geralt. “So you made me a woman as what, a favor?”

Tabitha looks over at Geralt and smiles a knowing smile. “Only for awhile. It will fade in time.”

“How much time?” Geralt demands. His hand is on his sword, and despite Tabitha turning him into a woman against his will, Jaskier doesn't want Geralt to threaten her.

“Yes, how much time?”

Tabitha shrugs. “It could be three days, it could be three weeks. It's different for everyone.”

“You will turn him back now,” Geralt says. He pulls out his sword and points it at the witch.

“Ah, Geralt is that really necessary?” Jaskier says nervously. He doesn't want to end up stuck as a woman forever.

Tabitha doesn't seem bothered in the slightest. “I can't turn him back, the spell doesn't work that way. It has to fade on its own.”

Jaskier sighs. Of course that's how it works. Why should anything in his life be easy? Geralt is frowning, glowering, really at Tabitha. “Find a way.”

Jaskier rests a hand on his arm. “It's alright, Geralt.”

Tabitah tilts her head and looks at him. “Ah, Witcher, can I speak to Jaskier alone?”

“No.”

“Alright.”

Geralt glares Jaskier's way. Jaskier forces a smile. “It's alright, it'll just take a minute.”

Geralt goes to wait outside without arguing, a small miracle. Jaskier knows how good his witcher hearing in, so he keeps his voice low. “What do you want?”

“Is that the one?” Tabitha asks. “The man you're so in love with?”

Jaskier feels his face flush. “So what if it is? I hardly wanted you to turn me into a woman to get him.”

“Do you not want your man?” she says.

“Not if I have to change myself to get him,” Jaskier hisses.

“That's good. It's why I didn't make the spell permanent—but I can, if that's what you want.”

Jaskier's mouth falls open. “If I—why would I want that?”

Tabitha shrugs lightly. “Some things are easier seen through different eyes.”

“What does that even mean?”

Tabitah moves closer to him, serious now. “What if your love realizes he loves you back? Loves you in this form? Would you keep it, to keep him?”

Jaskier swallows the lump rising in his throat. Would he? Would he give up this much to be with Geralt? He doesn't know. He doesn't think he would. Love shouldn't require so much. He wants to be loved for who he is. Not that it matters, in any case. “It doesn't matter, he'll never see me as anything more than what I am. Even as a woman he hardly looks at me.”

Tabitha laughs. “He can hardly keep his eyes off you.”

“Lust isn't the same as love,” Jaskier says. “Wanting this body isn't the same as wanting me.”

“Perhaps not. But perhaps wanting this form will make he realize he wants what's inside as well.”

Jaskier feels something tight in his stomach knot up. If only it were that easy. “I highly doubt that. Can you really not undo this?”

Tabitha lets out a heavy sigh. “I can try. It will take time to prepare. Come back in three days if you're still trapped in this form. But be warned, trying this might kill you.”

Waiting it out is starting to sound like a good idea. Jaskier doesn't like the idea of possibly dying. But he doesn't like the idea of living like this either. “Alright then, three days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Jaskier has deal with the hardships of being a woman, people mistake him and Geralt for a couple, and Geralt questions who Jaskier is in love with. As always, comments make my day, so feel free to tell me what you thought.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day, I am on fire

“Who is it?”

They're back in the inn now, Geralt sharpening his swords and not looking at him. In fact, he seems to be making a point of not looking at him. Jaskier might be flattered, if he thought it had anything to do with him, and not this form he's been cursed with.

“Who is who?”

Geralt glances up, gives him that look that says Jaskier knows exactly what he means.

“It doesn't matter,” Jaskier says. “I'll never have them.”

“Whoever she or he is, they aren't worth it. Find someone who likes you for yourself.”

Sometimes Geralt says these things that are wise, and Jaskier remembers he's older than he looks. But this—this makes him feel a sort of hysterical laughter bubble up inside. Geralt saying that. If he only knew.

“Or he?” Jaskier says, choosing a safer way to steer the conversation.

“More men interested in women than women,” Geralt says easily. Then he adds, “I've smelt them on you before.”

Jaskier feels his heart drop. Geralt knows that he likes men? Geralt knows? Has he guessed the truth? “You knew? You never said anything.”

“Nothing to say. Doesn't matter.”

Well, Geralt did grow up without any women around. Jaskier is probably not the first man he's known to lay with other men. At least he doesn't think him some sort of deviant. “Tabitha says there's something she can try to fix me. It'll take three days to prepare.”

“Hmm.”

“We just have to manage three days in this town. That shouldn't be hard. I can still sing for coin to pay for the room. You can take a vacation from monsters trying to kill you.”

///

It turns out Geralt cannot take a break from monsters trying to kill him. He and Jaskier barely make it downstairs before Rachel is coming up to them, frantic. “Witcher, we need your help. There's a monster, it nearly killed Jeremiah.”

Jeremiah it turns out, is a lad of around ten who saw his father dragged into a nearby swamp by a 'giant bug thing'. The boy gives the description and Geralt glances up to meet Rachel's questioning gaze. “A kikimore.”

He doesn't say the boy's father is as good as dead, though from the look on the poor boy's face, he's already realized as much. Jaskier can't bear to look at it, so he says, “Let's go, Geralt.”

“You're staying here.”

Geralt's voice is gruff and leaves no room for argument. Not that it has ever stopped Jaskier from arguing before. “What? It's only a kikimore, I've survived those before.”

This is true, he's faced quite a few monsters by Geralt's side. Usually the ones Geralt deems too dangerous he'll stay away from, but this isn't one of them. He narrows his eyes at Geralt and places his hands on his hips. “Is it because I'm a woman? You think you have to protect me like some damsel in distress? Is that it, Geralt?”

He doesn't realize how loud his voice is, until he notices the patrons of the tavern looking their way. And their looks are sympathetic, to Geralt. As if _Geralt_ is the one who needs pity in this situation. “I can't believe you'd be so sexist, when you know some of the most powerful women alive, some who could take you in a fight.”

“That's not it,” Geralt says.

“Then I'm coming with you.”

“You're staying here.”

Jaskier is so frustrated he could cry. “Why?”

“You can't even walk without tripping over your skirt. I can't fight and worry about keeping you alive. You'd just be a distraction.”

“Fine then, if I'd just be a distraction, I'm going back to our room,” Jaskier says and turns about in a huff.

Jeremiah looks up to Geralt. “My mom stomps off like that on my dad all the time. He usually buys her flowers to say he's sorry. He says it's important to tell women you're sorry, even if you don't know what for.”

Geralt's eyes follow Jaskier's retreating figure and he sighs. Naturally, people are going to think they're a couple if they argue like this in public. It's only because Jaskier is a woman. He's never been one to care much for rumors, so he hardly cares if people think he has a lover.

“I'm going to go save your father now. Stay here.”

///

Jaskier spends the time relearning his songs in a higher key. His voice is a higher pitch now, so he has to adjust. And these hands are fresh and new, nothing like his calloused hands from before. Still, he learns to play his lute because that's what he does, and he plans to make enough coin to pay for this room tonight. He may even let Geralt stay in it as well, if he isn't too angry at him.

He's just headed downstairs to play when Geralt gets back, covered in blood and guts, with a man hanging over his arm. The man is missing his left arm and looks terrible, but he's alive, so at least poor Jeremiah has a father. He doesn't pay any attention beyond a cursory nod, still a bit angry and too worried about his performance. It isn't as easy to get the crowds attention, they barely pay him any mind at first—save for one of the drunken men yelling out something vulgar about his breasts. Jaskier wonders if this is the sort of thing women have to deal with all the time.

He's not as well practiced singing this way, so he expects less coin. But he doesn't expect so much less. Most of the women spare him so coin, but only a few of the men and of those that do, most of them are leering at him in a way that makes him feel like a prey animal. Still, he has his admirers, and he's bought a round of drinks from them.

He's on the fourth cup of ale when Geralt comes down from his bath and sits next to him. He eyes the empty glasses and says “You should go easy on those. You don't know how they'll affect you.”

“It's only a few drinks. Are you saying a woman can't handle her drink as well as a man? That's a bit sexist you know,” Jaskier says, poking Geralt in the arm. It does nothing as usual.

“This body has never drank before,” Geralt remarks, and oh, that is a good point. Still, Jaskier feels like he's earned having a few drinks after tolerating men eyeing him like hunters eyeing a rabbit.

He stumbles up to the bar and orders another drink from Rachel. When he pulls out his coin to pay, the man next to him says “Let me.” Jaskier never says no to free ale, so he allows it. “Thank you kindly.”

The man slides closer and rubs a hand down his arm. Jaskier doesn't like the way it feels, possessive and predatory. “What's a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?”

“Oh you know, out collecting material for my songs.”

The man nods, but Jaskier can tell he isn't listening. Which is just rude. When he seduces a woman, he always treats her with enough common respect to engage in conversation. “What's your name, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart? He wants to gag himself. “Jaskier.”

“Sort of a masculine name, that is.”

Jaskier smiles wryly. “It's a complicated story.”

The man steps even closer, resting his hand on Jaskier's waist. “Why don't you tell me it upstairs?”

This is just insulting, really. How on earth does this man think this will work? “I'm flattered, but I have to pass.”

The grip on his waist tightens. It hurts a little. “Ah, you're hurting me.”

“I can pay ye for it. A bard's barely more than a whore.”

Jaskier sees red for a moment. He's never been treated this way in his life. He's considering punching this man when Geralt steps up beside him.

“Fuck off. She isn't interested.”

The man looks Geralt up and down and wisely removes his hand from Jaskier's waist. “You'd rather have this mutated freak?”

“He's ten times the man you are.” Jaskier snaps, moving closer to Geralt's side. He can feel Geralt's gaze on his face at the words, but he won't turn to look. “We're leaving. Come on, Geralt.”

Geralt follows him without argument.

///

Upstairs, Jaskier begins to undress as usual. Geralt has seen it happen a hundred times, so he feels no shame in it. Except this time, Geralt says his name sharply and when Jaskier looks at him, there's a hunger in his eyes.

Jaskier wonders if he could seduce Geralt in this form. He probably could. But would it be worth it in the end?

Jaskier is completely naked as he stands before Geralt. “I don't have any sleep clothes to change into and I'm not sleeping in that dress.”

Geralt reaches into his own bag and tugs out a simple black shirt and shoves it Jaskier's way. Jaskier comes and takes it and slips it over his head. It smells like Geralt. Jaskier almost inhales the smell, before he catches himself.

He takes him comb and begins brushing his hair. He's been with enough women to know they typically brush their hair before going to bed. He reaches a spot that's difficult to reach, a gets hung on a knot. And he's combed Geralt's hair for him before, so asking to help is no big deal right? It's just a friend helping a friend. “Could you...?” he asks, making a gesture and standing in front of Geralt.

Geralt takes the comb wordlessly and begins to brush. He isn't as gentle as Jaskier, but it still feels nice. It's soothing in a way. He feels Geralt's fingers stroke through his hair and he shudders. “Geralt,”

He turns and Geralt is looking at him with lust blown eyes. Jaskier's gaze falls down to his mouth. “So you do want to bed me after all,”

It's meant as a joke, to break the tension but it does nothing to help. The air around them feels static, charged. Jaskier takes a step forward, closing the tiny distance between them, his chest brushing against Geralt's.

Geralt immediately takes a step back. “Your body is reacting differently because you're a woman. You should go to bed.”

Jaskier doesn't know how to tell him that his body reacts to him regardless. Because he knows that isn't true for Geralt. He only knows that now his body yearns for Geralt's touch, down to the core of himself, to the part of him that's vastly different. He wants and wants and wants.

Instead of saying any of that, he just goes to bed.

“Goodnight Geralt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter earns that E rating


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt fingers Jaskier. That's it, that's the chapter.

Jaskier is too restless to sleep. His entire body throbs with want, in a way that is both foreign and exciting. There is still the feeling of wrongness there, that this body is alien and not his own, but it's muted by the desire stirring inside. He aches down to his bones with it.

He waits until he can hear the soft, even sounds of Geralt's breaths, can tell he is asleep. Then he indulges, lets himself inhale the scent of Geralt's shirt on his skin—and doesn't that feel delicious, wearing Geralt's clothes. He's never understood why women would do that after sex, wear his shirt, but he understands now, there's something erotic and intimate about it. And he has been with enough women to know how to pleasure one, so he figures it can't be that difficult to pleasure himself.

His cunt in already wet when he slides a finger inside, and oh, he's so tight there. But of course he is, this body has never been penetrated by anything. It hurts a little, but it also feels good and he chases the good feeling. He finds his clit and circles it, rubbing softly. A breathy moan escapes past his lips, and he bites down to keep the noises inside.

It's frustrating, how something can feel so good, yet not be enough. He keeps at it for minutes on end, but his pleasure plateaus and refuses to peak. Were women's bodies always so particular? He can't remember any of his lovers having these problems. But, then again, they had a helping hand to guide them, and he is alone. Jaskier lets out a frustrated groan and pounds a fist on the mattress in irritation.

“Jaskier?”

Shit. He's woken up Geralt. Geralt with his enhanced senses, who can probably hear every little noise he makes, can probably _smell_ his arousal. “Geralt, I-”

He can feel Geralt's eyes on him in the dark, though he can't see. Geralt's voice is low when he says “Are you-”

“I'm trying to,” Jaskier answers before he can finish. “It isn't working.”

Geralt chuckles at that, the bastard. “You could be a friend, offer a hand.”

Geralt goes quiet. Jaskier is afraid he's pushed things too far, he was only joking, really. Mostly. “Geralt...”

The bed dips and Geralt is beside him. Jaskier's breath catches in his throat. “This doesn't have to mean anything,” he offers quietly.

“Hmm.”

He can feel the heat of Geralt's eyes on his body, and it makes him feel naked. He feels strangely vulnerable like this, wet and wanting and clad only in Geralt's shirt. “Geralt, I need something. Anything. I can't-”

“I've got you,” Geralt says, voice rumbling deep and smooth and sending shivers down Jaskier's spine. His hand comes and tugs down the blanket, and Jaskier hears his breath quicken. It's too dark for Jaskier to see where the shirt is rucked up, where his legs are spread wantonly and his hand is lying useless by his cunt. But it isn't too dark for Geralt and his witcher senses. He lifts the hand from Jaskier's thigh and brings it to his face, inhales his scent then takes the fingers into his mouth.

It's the hottest thing; it sends a rush of heat down to Jaskier's cunt, makes him grow wetter. He inhales sharply and whispers Geralt's name, not sure what he is asking for, only that he is asking for something.

“Relax,” Geralt says, guiding his hand back down to the bed. His own hand comes to take it's place, smoothing over his thigh and up to his cunt. He palms over his mound and Jaskier's back arches. A singles finger of Gerlat's slides inside him and Jaskier winces. Geralt stills, waits. Jaskier takes a breath. “Stings a little, but don't stop.”

Please, please, don't stop, he thinks.

“Imagine, you a virgin,” Geralt says dryly.

Jaskier doesn't have time to make a smart retort, Geralt crooks the finger and it feels heavenly. Jaskier feels himself gush and it's such a strange feeling. He's almost embarrassed. Do women get embarrassed over this? Is there such thing as being too wet? Should he be ashamed?

“Stop thinking, just feel,” Geralt orders him. Jaskier has never been more glad of how Geralt could be oddly perceptive at times. (Though completely oblivious at others, especially when it came to certain feelings.)

The finger inside him moves slow and careful, gentle but unrelenting. Jaskier feels his toes start to curl and he's close, but it's not enough. “I need more.”

Geralt slips another finger inside him and there is a fresh burn, but it's good, it enhances the pleasure. The fingers work diligently, rubbing and stroking. As they do, Geralt's thumb comes up to circle his clit. Jaskier jerks from the sensation. “Ah, Geralt, don't stop.”

Geralt keeps working his fingers slow and gentle, while the thumb on his clit moves from circling to stroking over him. It gradually increases in pace, the pleasure building until peaks and he topples over the edge, body wrecked with spasms. Jaskier thinks he cries Geralt's name, he can't be sure, it feels so good, so strong, so much more intense in this body. Still, Geralt does not stop moving his fingers and as one wave of pleasure recedes another builds and crashes and leaves him shaking.

Jaskier can't breath and his entire body hums in satisfaction. He nudges Geralt's hand off him. “No more, I can't take it.”

He feels Geralt rise from the bed and frowns. “Don't you want-”

“No.”

The great fool. He can be stupidly noble when he wants to be. “I don't mind. I want you, Geralt. This body wants you.”

He can't say the truth, can't speak it and ruin what they have. Years of friendship could be undone.

“Go to sleep, Jaskier.”

It's all Geralt says before crawling back into his own bed, and though Jaskier is fully satisfied in one regard, still he wants.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt is confused. Jaskier gets what he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I made another chapter of almost pure smut. Hope y'all enjoy it.

Geralt is conflicted.

His body wants to take up Jaskier's offer, but his reason tells him it's a bad idea. Giving in to him at all was a bad idea, but Geralt can only withstand so much temptation. Knowing Jaskier was a scant six feet apart from him, touching himself, thinking of him.

It's strange, his reaction to this new body. How he wants when he never has before. Except his feelings for Jaskier have not changed. Yet, this physicality feels natural.

He thinks of how Jaskier defended him from the villager who called him a freak. And wasn't that the sort of thing Jaskier always did, so why should it suddenly seem to mean more now? And why were people quick to assume him and Jaskier as lovers, when they acted no differently than before?

It is perplexing.

He would be glad when this curse lifted and things could go back to normal. They would simply never talk about what happened this night, and it would be fine. It was nothing, a simple favor between friends.

So why can't he stop thinking of it? Why is the sound of his name of Jaskier's lips replaying in his head?

His thoughts are muddled and loud as he tries to sleep and it takes him hours to drift off. When he sleeps he dreams, dreams of Jaskier in this woman's body, dreams of her mouth around his cock.. She's beautiful like that, lips stretched wide and tears in her eyes, moaning and loving every second of it. But then, suddenly, the image changes to that of Jaskier as himself, and Geralt spills down his throat.

He wakes to sticky sheets and shame, something that hasn't happened since his boyhood. Jaskier sleeps quietly in the bed across from him, and it's a small relief he didn't see. Geralt cleans himself up and leaves before Jaskier wakes, knowing he'll never get back to sleep.

Roach could do with a good brush down anyway.

///

Jaskier wakes to an empty room.

Fear slice through him that Geralt has left him for good, that he scared him off, but then he sees Geralt's swords still in the corner and relaxes. Geralt wouldn't go far without them.

They probably need to have a conversation about last night, as much as Jaskier is loath to. Geralt isn't one for talking about his feelings. But Jaskier has to know. He has to know if Geralt's desire is only for this body, or if any is for himself.

Geralt eventually does return to their room, and Jaskier feels the familiar warmth at seeing him. And how long did it take him to realize what he wants, what he feels? He had some notion of his feelings yes, but it took him years to figure them out. Maybe Geralt needs time. Maybe he shouldn't push him.

But it's been more than a decade of friendship, and he isn't a witcher, he has limited time. He doesn't want to waste anymore of it.

“About last night,” he starts. Geralt stills, goes rigid. Naturally, he wants to avoid this talk. Well, too bad. Jaskier isn't going to let him. “You wanted me.”

“Jaskier-”

Jaskier holds up a hand, cuts him off. “You did. You still do. But you didn't before this,” He gestures at his female body.

“No.”

Jaskier's heart sinks. It's as he thought. But if he only has one chance to have, then why waste it? This will be something to remember, to get him through the cold nights alone. “Then have me while you can. It's what I want.”

“When this is over-” Geralt begins.

Jaskier forces a smile. “Then things return to normal.”

Geralt steps closer to him, until only scant inches separate them. “And you're alright with that?”

“Would I offer if I weren't?”

Geralt looks down at him, studies his face and finally says “...Fine.”

Suddenly hands are on his waist, tugging him close and Geralt's mouth is on his neck. Jaskier expected a kiss, but maybe that's too personal, too intimate. Geralt's lips are on his neck, kissing and lightly nipping at the flesh, tongue laving over the hurt. It sends molten heat to his stomach and he clings to Geralt's shoulder, buries a hand in his hair.

The hands on his waist move, one going down to cup his ass, the other finding a breast. Geralt's thumb brushes over a nipple and Jaskier gasps at the sensation. Jaskier is still wearing nothing but Geralt's shirt, and Geralt pulls back and tugs it over his head, leaving him bare. Hungry eyes look over his body and Jaskier feels similar to how he did in the bar, like a prey animal, only this time it's exciting and he wants to be devoured.

Hands heft under Jaskier's thighs and lift him up; Jaskier's legs go immediately around Geralt's waist. Geralt moves them back to Jaskier's bed and lowers Jaskier unto to it, more gently than Jaskier would have imagined. Geralt looms over him, and Jaskier feels a stab of worry. He's seen Geralt dress and undress plenty of times and the man is well-endowed. He knows a woman's first time can often be painful if proper care isn't taken. But something that size might hurt.

“You're sure about this?” Geralt asks, seeing the worry on his face.

“More sure than anything,” Jaskier says back softly and reaches a hand up to Geralt's face. “Kiss me, Witcher.”

Geralt does, and it's everything Jaskier dreamed of. Geralt kisses like it's the only thing in the world he wants to be doing and it makes Jaskier melt. His lips move against his like they were made for this, and he nips and tugs lightly with teeth, sucks Jaskier's lower lip into his mouth before tracing the seam of his lips with his tongue. Jaskier parts for him immediately and Geralt caresses his tongue with his own. Jaskier moans into his mouth and Geralt's hands are everywhere, moving over his body.

Geralt tears away from the kiss to mouth down Jaskier's jaw to his neck, to suck his earlobe into his mouth, to suck at the junction between neck and shoulder. Lips trail over his collarbone, down his chest and over a pert breast. Geralt laves over the nipple with his tongue, circles it with the tip until it stands hard and aching. He suckles it into his mouth and Jaskier gasps, threading fingers in his hair.

Nipples never felt this sensitive as a man. He might miss this bit when he switches back.

Between his legs, Jaskier feels himself getting wet. And he wants Geralt to touch him there, he needs it. He spreads his legs and rubs himself on Geralt's thigh. Geralt's hand comes up between his legs and rub over him softly, teasingly while his mouth moves to the other breast.

“Geralt, don't tease, touch me.” It comes out as more of a breathy plea than Jaskier intended. Geralt stops what he's doing and looks Jaskier over. He rises from the bed and Jaskier reaches out hands to pull him back. Geralt catches one, nuzzles at his wrist, drops a kiss there. “I'm not going anywhere.”

He guides Jaskier to sit up, positions him on the edge of the bed with his legs dangling off and kneels in front of him. A hand wraps around the curve of his ankle and slides up, up his calf to his thigh and pushes them gently apart. Jaskier feels his heart race. Geralt nuzzles his thigh, kisses and nips his way up one and then down the other. Jaskier can't breathe. He winds fingers in Geralt's hair, tries his best not to tug him where he wants him. He feels Geralt smile against his thigh, so clearly he's failed to hide his want. Geralt kisses the seam of his thigh and Jaskier sighs. “Geralt, please.”

Geralt's mouth moves to his cunt, kissing his lips. He kisses him like he's kissing his mouth, slow and deep and dirty. Jaskier's back arches and he moans loudly. Geralt licks his way inside him, kisses and sucks at his lips. Jaskier's legs tighten around Geralt's shoulder and he pants, groans Geralt's name.

Geralt forces his legs further apart and buries his face in his cunt. He mouth moves against him and his tongue fucks into him and it's good, so good that Jaskier could scream. He nearly does, but he bites into his own hand to stop it. He feels Geralt making some noise against him—was that a growl? Because if so, fuck that's hot. Geralt pulls back briefly and Jaskier whines at the loss. “Sing for me, bard.”

Oh, Geralt wants to hear him. Well, never let it be said Jaskier didn't give his lovers what they want.

Geralt laves his tongue over him slowly, bottom to top and Jaskier lets out a throaty moan. Geralt finds him clit and licks over it, slow and soft. He kisses it, suckles it gently. Jaskier cries out with the pleasure. Geralt's mouth moves over him hungrily, building up speed and pressure on his clit. The orgasm takes him by surprise and Jaskier's entire body shakes as waves of pleasure crash over him. Geralt's mouth doesn't stop, works him through it and moves back down lower to swirl his tongue inside him, fuck him with it. “You're so wet for me.”

He dives back in before Jaskier can reply, and curls his tongue inside. He finds a spot that makes Jaskier squirm and relentlessly circles it until another smaller orgasm wracks Jaskier's body. Jaskier falls back unto the bed, gasping, barely able to breathe.

Geralt stands and undoes his pants. Jaskier realizes he hasn't been doing much for Geralt, too lost in the sensations of this new body. He pushes Geralt's hands away. “Let me,”

Geralt throws off his shirt, let's Jaskier open his pants. Jaskier looks at his cock, it's massive and mouth watering. “I want to suck you.”

Geralt groans and it's all the affirmation Jaskier needs before sliding to the ground in front of him. He wastes no time getting to work, licking from the bottom of the shaft to the tip, licking away the bead of precome collected there. He takes the head into his mouth and swirls his tongue around it. He's imagined the way Geralt would taste plenty of times, but nothing compares to the weight on his tongue, to the tangy bitterness.

He hollows his cheeks and bobs his head, sucking and moving his tongue along the length. He doesn't bother starting slow, he's too eager for it. He's frantic and messy and a little sloppy. He moans around Geralt, loving the feel, the taste. He pops of with a wet, filthy sound. “I want you to fuck my throat.”

“I don't want to hurt you,” Geralt says, but he's barely restraining himself, Jaskier can tell.

“You won't,” Jaskier says, and directs Geralt's hand to his hair. It feels nice when Geralt fists his fingers in it.

Jaskier opens his mouth, takes Geralt as deep as he can. Geralt thrusts his hips shallowly, gently guiding Jaskier's head. It's sweet, the care he's taking, but it's not what Jaskier wants. He speeds up, makes it a little rougher to show Geralt he can take it. Geralt thrusts into his harder, moves his head faster and soon Jaskier feels like he's floating outside his own body, nothing but the sound of Geralt's soft moans grounding him. Tears leak from his eyes as he gags on Geralt's cock and he loves it, loves the burn, the taste, the feel.

Geralt comes down his throat and for a moment, an odd look passes over his face. Jaskier doesn't have time to question it, before Geralt is lifting him off the floor and back unto the bed. Jaskier is soaking wet again, insanely aroused from sucking Geralt. “How long until you can fuck me?”

Witcher stamina has to be good for something besides killing monsters.

“You're insatiable,” Geralt says, but he sounds fond.

“How long?”

Geralt shrugs. “Ten minutes?”

Jaskier crawls back unto the bed and spreads his legs wantonly. “Then for ten minutes you can put your mouth to good use.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we have the penis is vagina sex, and from Geralt's POV. And also actual plot things happen.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Jaskier have sex. Jaskier and Tabitha have a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I worked through a migraine to get this chapter up, so it might not be my best work, but I thought y'all deserved an update.

Geralt has been with many women in his long life. But none ever felt quite like this. Maybe it is because it's Jaskier, but something about this feels right. Inevitable.

(He doesn't know why it feels this way. Jaskier is his friend—even if he doesn't usually admit it. It shouldn't feel this way.)

When he slides into Jaskier he gasps and grips his back, nails digging into his shoulders. He's so wet, and so very tight. Geralt is afraid of hurting him, so he rocks slowly, gently until Jaskier tosses his head back and moans. A litany of swears fall from his lips and he groans out Geralt's name like it is something divine.

It feels precious, this moment between them and it's vaguely terrifying. Because it will end once Jaskier turns back, because it will end when Jaskier dies. He can't afford to go catching feelings—this is just sex between friends.

He thinks Jaskier probably wanted him before this, before he was a woman. He's smelt the arousal on him before, but he's always contributed it to pure lust. What if he was wrong?

He can't hold the thought, not with Jaskier so slick and hot around him. He thrusts into him and Jaskier cries out. It's intimate and close, but it doesn't feel like enough. Geralt twines their hands together, drives into Jaskier harder. Jaskier's feet dig into the small of his back and urge him on. “Geralt, Geralt, Geralt,”

In a surprising move, Jaskier shifts his hips and flips their positions. It's a good look on him, hair tumbling around his shoulders, breasts heaving. Jaskier keeps their hands twined together and holds Geralt's wrists to the bed—an easy enough position to break if Geralt wanted to. But he lets Jaskier do as he pleases.

(He wonders, if Jaskier was in his own body, would he act this way? Would he want to be on top? How would he take his pleasure? And why is he thinking of such things anyway?)

Jaskier circles his hips and rides him, arching his back and tossing back his head. He builds up speed and the rhythm grows more and more erratic. He releases the hold on Geralt's hands and pulls him up into sitting position. It slides him in deeper and they both groan. One of Geralt's hands finds a breast to fondle and the other cups Jaskier's cheek, bringing their mouths together in a messy kiss. As soon as he lets go of Jaskier's face, Jaskier brings their hands back together, interlocking their fingers. He rides Geralt faster as Geralt kisses and sucks on his neck—there will be a mark there tomorrow and the thought oddly pleases him.

Jaskier comes first, entire body going taut and mouth open in a silent cry, before collapsing against him. Geralt follows after him, spilling inside him with an intensity he hasn't felt in years. He threads a hand through Jaskier's hair, holds him close while he catches his breath.

He feels wetness against his chest and cradles Jaskier's head, tilts it so he can meet his eyes. “Did I hurt you?”

Jaskier shakes his head and laughs weakly. “No, no, that was just...intense. You didn't hurt me Geralt.”

Geralt doesn't know how to handle tears, he never has, so he simply holds Jaskier against him and resumes stroking his hair. He doesn't know how things are ever going to go back to normal.

///

Jaskier feels like a fool for letting himself tear up.

He's finally got Geralt how he wants him, and it's destined to only be a one time thing. It's almost worse now, that he knows what he will be missing. Geralt was so tender with him, so sweet, not at all how he imagined it going. But then, it is Geralt, and under the brutish exterior is a soft heart. A heart he wishes were his own.

And perhaps it could be. He saw something in Geralt's eyes while he looked at him, some sort of affection there. Maybe Geralt could love him like this. To have him he'd only have to give up everything he is.

He needs to talk to Tabitha. Get this sorted out now. Because he cannot live like this.

Tabitha lets him in with a knowing smile. “I figured you'd come back around.”

Her little cottage is cluttered with plants and potions, but he clears room off the small table and serves him a cup of tea. “What is it you want?”

“How many people have you done this to?”

She shrugs. “A fair share.”

“And how many chose to stay women?”

Tabitha sits down her cup carefully. “Only one, but she said she was a woman at heart and my curse was a blessing.” She tilts her head. “Do you feel the same?”

Woman's body or no, Jaskier very much felt like a man. “No.”

“Then why consider staying?” She leans forward and grins. “Ah, he fucked you didn't he?”

“If you must know, yes, but-”

“But?”

Jaskier sighs and sinks further into his chair. “How can I tell if he'll want me when I turn back?”

“Ye could ask him,” Tabitha says. She lays a hand gently on his. “There is no magic solution here, only communication. If you want to know how he feels, you'll have to talk about your feelings.”

Jaskier was afraid of that. “Geralt isn't big on talking.”

“Aye, but you are. So make him listen.”

Jaskier swallows the lumps rising in his throat. “And what if he doesn't want me?”

“Then you'll know and can stop pining. Trust me, it's better to know.”

Jaskier rises to his feet. “Thank you for the tea, I'll consider what you said.”

“Two days and the antidote should be ready. But remember there's a chance it could kill you. I don't think it's worth the risk.”

Jaskier doesn't know either way. He could ride this thing out with Geralt and get as much from it as he can, but wouldn't that just make it harder in the end? He needs this to be over. He needs to know, one way or the other.

Either Geralt will want him as himself, or not have him at all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier confesses his feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was originally supposed to be part of the last chapter, but because my head was exploding it didn't make it. So sorry for the shortness. We're only a few chapters away from the end now.

Jaskier puts off the conversation. He needs more time. The next two days are spent in a haze of sex, until finally Jaskier can hold it in no longer. “We need to talk,” he says.

“Hmm,” He's laying his head on Geralt's chest, both of them naked and sweaty, just finishing a round of enthusiastic sex. Geralt's fingers are idly trailing through his hair and it's nice, the way Geralt is so physically affectionate during and after they make love. (He calls it making love in his head, even if Geralt doesn't see it that way, because it is, at least on his side.)

“This thing between us now, I like it.”

Geralt's mouth crooks into a smile. He likes this thing too, whatever it is. “I could tell. So can the whole tavern, loud as you were that last time.”

Jaskier sighs and props up to one elbow. “That isn't what I mean. I mean, I'll miss this when it's over.”

Geralt doesn't say anything, but his gaze is more intense. Jaskier goes on, “But what if it didn't have to be over?”

The words hang heavy in the air.

“What do you mean?”

Jaskier looks away, draws up his courage. “We can continue this, after I change back.”

“You'll be a man,” Geralt says.

Jaskier feels his stomach clench in knots. “Does that matter?”

“I've never been with a man.”

Jaskier pushes away and finds his dress, pulling it back on. “Never mind, I shouldn't have said anything.”

“Jaskier-”

He turns away. “It's fine, Geralt. I didn't expect you to feel the same.”

Geralt sits up. “Feel the same?”

Shit. _Shit_. He hadn't meant to say that. Jaskier keeps his back to Geralt and speaks, voice small and wavering, “You really don't know? You never guessed? All these years and you never put it together?”

Geralt says nothing, but the silence is deafening.

Jaskier turns around. There are tears stinging in his eyes, but he blinks them back. It's time to be brave. Tell the truth and get it over with. “I'm in love with you. I always have been.”

There. He said it. It's out in the open.

Geralt is too shocked to speak. He had an inkling Jaskier lusted for him, but this, this he never would have guessed. “Jaskier-” He stops. He doesn't know what to say.

“Don't say anything, Geralt. I know you don't feel the same.” Jaskier strides to the door. “Goodbye, Geralt.”

It feels final somehow, like Jaskier may never say it again. Geralt doesn't want that. “Jaskier, wait.”

But Jaskier walks out without looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter Jaskier sees Tabitha about the cure, and encounters some complications. Geralt thinks about his feelings.


	8. Chapter 8

It starts to rain on the way to Tabitha's cottage. Jaskier feels like it's only appropriate, given how things are going for him. His dress is stuck to his skin when he finally makes it, hair dripping and clinging to his face. Thunder booms and lightning cracks through the sky. Jaskier wonders if it's an omen; if it were a song he'd use it as some sort of metaphor.

Tabitha ushers him inside. She leads him to the bedroom, a route he is intimately familiar with. He should hate her for what she's done, but he finds he can't. If a few days are all he is able to have with Geralt, he'll treasure them, and be grateful for the opportunity.

“This will be painful,” Tabitha says. “You'll want to lie down. You may pass out.”

Jaskier doesn't find that reassuring, but he's got his resolve. He will do this, no matter what. “Knew you'd try to get me back in your bed again,” he says, but the joke is weak.

In Tabitha's hands in a bottle with a shimmering blue liquid, smoke curling faintly inside. “Drink this and you'll turn back...if you survive the change.”

Jaskier takes the potion and chugs it back. It tastes vile and feels thick like syrup. Almost as soon as he's swallowed it, he feels a sharp, shooting pain from his stomach. He falls to his side and gasps, clutching his waist. Tears spring in his eyes. His entire body jerks and spasms, back arching unnaturally. He screams and screams and screams.

Then mercifully, everything fades to black.

///

There's a banging on the door that pulls Geralt from his thoughts. He swings it open and sees Tabitha on the other side, drenched and panting, chest heaving as if she's ran. “Jaskier,” she says, barely breathing.

“What happened?”

She shakes her head. “The potion, it worked, but he won't wake up.”

Geralt feels his heart clench. Jaskier not waking up, Jaskier gone. He can't imagine it, can't imagine a world without Jaskier in it. He pushes past Tabitha. He'll go to him, be with him at the end. If it is the end. But it can't be, it _can't_. Not now.

Tabitha falls into step behind him. “There's a way to save him, but it comes at a great cost.”

“Do it,” Geralt says without thinking.

“I'll need to borrow your life force.”

That's dangerous magic. The kind that could kill if done incorrectly. “I'll do it.”

///

Jaskier is twitching on the bed when they arrive, still unconscious, but moaning in pain. He looks pale, so pale and covered in sweat. But he is himself again, and Geralt is glad to see it. Geralt goes to his side and puts a hand on his shoulder. “What did you do to him?”

Tabitha glares at him. “What did I do? What did you? Any fool could see he was in love with you, you broke his heart, not me.”

“You turned him into a woman,” After all this is over, they'll have to have a serious talk about her using this kind of magic. But now Jaskier is all that matters. 

“I was trying to help him!”

There's no point arguing, though Geralt would very much like to throttle the witch. Jaskier doesn't have time for such things. Geralt takes his hand and squeezes it. “Let's get this over.”

It's blood magic, dark stuff. Geralt has to cut his palm and let her take his blood into a bowel. She mixes it with herbs and other bits Geralt can't identify. She mixes them and speaks in an old language, words Geralt can't understand. He feels like something is being drained from him, like he's been injured fighting a monster. It isn't pain, just a feeling of weakness, like the tiredness that comes after a long, hard fight. 

Witchers can't be weak. Weakness will get them killed. But he can't let Jaskier die.

Tabitha takes the bowel and forces Jaskier to drink from it, holding a hand over his mouth and nose until he swallows. He jerks, but some color seems to return to him. His breathing evens out and the moans stop. Tabitha smiles. “He'll be fine, it'll take a few minutes, but he should wake up.”

She turns to look at Geralt. “I was just trying to help him. Help him get you.”

“He already has me,” Geralt snaps without thinking. And it's true, he realizes. Jaskier has been by his side like no one else. Geralt cares for him like no one else. It's not the burning passion he's felt for lovers in the past, not like Yen, but...But it's something else entirely. Something that came upon him so slow and gradual he hasn't noticed it.

His feelings haven't changed, but the way he looks at them has. It seems so clear now, that what he feels isn't mere friendship. And perhaps he didn't notice, because he never thought loving a man would be something he could do. He never has before, in all his long life. But Jaskier is good at being the first—the first person to break through his walls and become important to him, the first to look at him without fear, the first to dare to love him.

“He already has me,” he repeats, looking down at Jaskier. Does he want him less now that he's a man again? He never truly was a woman, not on the inside. And just because his womanly body awakened something in him, doesn't mean his real body has to end it. It will be different than he is used to, but Geralt finds he doesn't mind. He looks forward to the newness.

Tabitha smiles. “Be sure to tell him that. The effects of the spell should wear off in a few days, then you'll be back to your full strength. Try not to get killed by any monsters.”

Jaskier moves on the bed, his eyes fluttering. Geralt grips his hand, says his name. Slowly, Jaskier opens his eyes. “Geralt?”

“I'll leave you two, I'm sure you have plenty to talk about,” Tabitha says and leaves the room.

They certainly do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter left.


End file.
